Revenge of The Fallen (Crossover)

The Promise

Third Person Pov:
"After that I stayed the night here. This morning my friend Joe gave me your number and, well, here you are." Pete said as he finished up his story. Both Sam and Dean were wide-eyed at the events he described.

"Wait, you said he had yellow eyes, right?" Sam asked after a moment of silence.

"Uh, yeah, where the blue should've been, why?" Pete responded.

"Are you sure they weren't all black?" Sam continued, a hint of worry in his voice.

"No, I'm sure they were yellow." Pete reassured himself, getting a bit frustrated.

Sam looked back at Dean, a worried look still in his eyes. Dean responded with the same worried look. They were thinking the same thing, but they both knew it was impossible.

"Well, did he leave anything behind, like traces of sulfur?" Sam asked as he looked back at Pete.

"Maybe? I don't know. How do you guys know about this stuff anyway?"

"You called, can't complain." Dean retorted, making sure to avoid the question.

"I guess." Pete responded, a little guilt in his voice. "I'm sorry, I just need some time to process all this."

"It's okay, we understand." Sam replied with sympathy. He had an idea of what Pete was going through, and he knew it wasn't good. "We'll help you find him."

"Sam." Dean called to his brother after clearing his throat. Sam knew what this was about, but he really didn't want to deal with it at that moment. Pete had an idea of what he was going to say too.

"Wait, so you guys hunt, you know, demons and monsters, right?" Pete asked, stalling the inevitable conversation.

"Anything that goes bump in the night, basically." Dean responded.

"If you're going to help me find Patrick, you have to promise me one thing."

Sam and Dean perked up, listening closely.

"Promise me you won't kill him." Pete finished, caution in his voice.

"We won't, I promise." Sam responded right on the spot with a reassuring tone.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, catching his brother's attention again. Sam looked back at frustration at his brother. He'd been stalling this conversation for as long as he could. He sighed, finally replying, "Yes?"

"We need to talk." Dean demanded in a gruff voice.

Sam rolled his eyes. He really didn't want to have a huge fight with his brother that would end up in yelling in front of a man going through enough as it is. But Dean just wouldn't wait on his brother any longer.

Sam looked away for a moment, then finally got up, and Dean soon followed, Pete looking at them like he knew what was coming. They both went to the kitchen area of the house to battle out the inevitable.

"Sam, what the hell are you thinking?!" Dean started, making sure to keep his voice at a low hiss.

"We're not killing him, Dean. He has a wife, and a child." Sam continued, standing his ground with firm but calm voice.

"Yeah, but what about the yellow eyes?! It can't be anyone else!"

"Dean, you know it's impossible! We killed him years ago."

"Yeah, well, we haven't encountered any other demons with yellow eyes, have we?!"

"Maybe we're going to start!" Sam finally snapped, his voice raising as he tried to defend his opinion.

Dean sighed. He knew he wasn't going to get anywhere with Sam. His brother was a softie, but he was really damn stubborn.

"I just have a bad feeling about this, man." Dean said after a moment tension.

"Look." Sam responded. "I get it, but I'm still not going to kill Patrick! Again, he has a wife, and a kid, and a best friend who's sitting right there who's worried sick about him. We both know what it feels like to lose someone we care about, don't we?"

Dean looked at Sam with guilty eyes, then looked away. He couldn't bear to see the look of pleading that was plastered on his brother's face like a neon sign. He had good points, but-

"Pete?" Elisa's soft voice beckoned from the bottom of the stairs. The group turned to her, Pete listening closely. Dean silently thanked God for her timing; he couldn't stand fighting his brother about this anymore.

"It's Meagan. She's getting really worried, and would like for you to go home. Bronx is missing you too." She smiled, looking at Pete with a soft gaze. He turned to the brothers. They knew it was time to leave.

"Well, my girlfriend needs me home. Thank you, both of you." Pete said to Sam and Dean with a reassuring smile.

"Of course." Sam replied, returning the same reassuring smile. "Hey, if you need anything, just call my cell. You know, if you get any new leads, or if Patrick comes to pay another visit."

Pete nodded, looking at the piece of paper Sam handed to him while he was explaining. He knew what 'another visit' meant. He just hoped it wouldn't be like the last one.

"Thank you." Pete said one last time to the brothers, shaking their hands. He liked Sam; he was reliable, and thoughtful, and seemed genuinely concerned about what was going on. But he didn't know what to think of Dean; he seemed to always need to pull this rough and tough mask over himself, like it was protecting him from something. It probably was; Pete had no idea what they go through in their 'line of work'. But he was grateful for their help nonetheless.
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The sun was still shining brightly as Sam and Dean walked across the street towards their car: the glorious black 1967 Chevy Impala. Just before Dean was about to step foot in his precious baby, a groan came from Sam, as if he had forgotten something.

"Oh, that's right, I know where he's from!"

"Wait what?" Dean asked in confusion, not catching onto Sam's brilliant discovery.

"Pete Wentz!"

"Yeah?..."

"He's from Fall Out Boy!"

It took a second, but Dean still couldn't recognize the name. He was getting a little annoyed, with Sam smiling like an idiot and all.

"Who?" He finally asked. He realized he'd done something wrong as Sam's face went from giddy to irritated.

"Dude, you follow all these old rock bands and you don't know who Fall Out Boy is?!" Sam demanded, like it was a sin to not recognize the 'holy band's' name.

"Well I'm sorry, apparently we've been living under a rock for most of our lives. Oh yeah, we have!" Dean retorted back in the most sarcastic tone possible.

Sam sighed in defeat. "Alright, let's just go." He responded as he got in the car, in the most passive-aggressive tone possible.

Dean rolled his eyes and got in the car. Sam was going to be like this for the rest of the day; he knew how his brother worked.

Damn, the rest of their argument was going to be a bitch to deal with when they got back to the hotel. But they had no idea what was in store for them as a looming figure watched them drive off from the shadows.